


Toy

by buckybleeds



Series: Toybox [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Dehumanization, Garbage Trash and Vile Filth, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Multi, Not Beta Read, Object Insertion, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:01:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25727086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybleeds/pseuds/buckybleeds
Summary: Steve gets a new toy, which triggers a flashback and an old pattern in Bucky.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Hydra Agents, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Toybox [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1880650
Comments: 27
Kudos: 146





	Toy

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings! This is super duper rapey and dehumanizing and body shamey and just, it is BAD. You've been warned! 
> 
> If you want to be warned FURTHER and don't mind spoilers check the end notes.
> 
> Also hey FYI @thefilthiestpiglet and I sort of concurrently created two pieces of trash in response to a post in the trash chat. If you like this fic you should very, VERY much go check out piglet's delightful art "Discovery": https://archiveofourown.org/works/25743139

It wasn't like he was nervous or anything. Steve Rogers was a grown ass man with a mortgage and a husband and a hundred years of nightmares.

A sex toy wouldn't make him _nervous_. 

Well. 

Not _very_ nervous.

21st century people didn't get it. 

They hadn't had friends arrested for breaking obscenity laws. They could publish blue comics on the internet and gain a following and get paid for it and almost nobody would bat an eye. 

It wasn't the same here as it was back home so it had taken Steve a long, long time to work up the nerve to even visit a site that sold - uh - adult entertainments. 

Of course it didn't help that he was mildly terrified that the second he clicked on something lewd banners would fall from the ceiling announcing that Captain America was a pervert and his laptop would start streaming his horrified, ashamed, perverted face to the grandmothers of America. 

Which was a shame, really, because Steve was in fact a big old pervert (literally both big and old to boot) and sometimes he felt the desire to, as Tony would say, let his freak flag fly. 

But he had offended the baby Jesus enough by marrying Bucky, he didn't think the pacemakers of the grandmothers of America would be able to handle his search history. 

So it took him a while to get around to learning how to use private browsers and proxy servers and to find a toy store that would accept bitcoin and then to find a reliable size guide and trustworthy reviews to ensure he'd even fit in a fleshlight (aside from good advice about masturbators r/bigdickproblems also had some _excellent_ gusseting advice he wanted to implement in every tactical suit and pair of pants he owned immediately).

But eventually Steve had jumped through the hoops and read the reviews and set up a PO box and now it was here and he wanted to wiggle out of his skin. 

He'd put the nondescript, always discreet, shipping box into a backpack and ridden his bike back home from okay-maybe-it-was-paranoid-to-get-a-PO-box-in-Manhattan, he'd carefully cut the tape away from the shipping box and responsibly broken down the cardboard for recycling. 

And now he was. 

Not _nervous_. 

He was _anticipatory_. 

He was appreciatively stroking the suede-textured, deep navy box-within-the-shipping-box that made the toy look like it was something truly decadent - Belgian chocolates or hand-rolled cigars or a necklace of emeralds in a rich, heavy case. 

He hadn't even seen the thing and was half hard in his jeans. 

Steve made a quick diversion to his underwear drawer for lube (water-based, carefully selected to pair with his new toy without dissolving it, a nightmarish and expensive-sounding prospect) and set the bottle down on the table as he psyched himself up to open the lid. 

His cellphone rang.

" _Aaaaaugjesusfuckinchrist_ ," he did not shout as he literally jumped out of his chair to retrieve the buzzing menace from his pocket while looking distrustfully at the ceiling to make sure he hadn't missed any "pervert" banners, confetti cannons, or webcams.

Oh. Okay. It was Wanda. 

Hm. 

How much did he _not_ want to talk to a telepath right now?

He bit his lip and sighed, but as a paragon of American valor and the dictionary model for earnestness he poked "answer" on the screen. 

"Hey Wanda, it's not a great time right now - " was as far as he got before the young woman's sobbing made it through to him. 

"Steve, please help, please, I don't know what happened, I don't know why it's on the ceiling, please, oh, what am I going to do?"

And Steve was already up and grabbing his keys out of the bowl by the door because the list of people Steve would hide a body for was short and Wanda was on it, and besides she only lived two buildings away. 

***

Bucky was sunning himself. 

It was a pleasant hobby and his standard schedule for every afternoon for the foreseeable future. 

Sorry, doc, 2pm won't work, I've booked solid from noon to four watching traffic and dozing on the fire escape. 

Sorry, Avengers (Earth's Mightiest Heroes), U.S. Govenment (pack of assholes), and helpless citizens (folks) - fighting off the alien invasion will have to wait until I'm done photosynthesizing.

So from his position lounging on the fire escape he heard Steve's furtive movements and pathetic attempts to be sneaky, but wasn't particularly interested in investigating them until the sounds got agitated and Steve stormed out. 

That was unusual, and a bit more interesting (and less smelly) than watching the neighborhood strays investigating a massive, seeping garbage pile. 

He crawled in through the kitchen window and came up short with a smile when he saw the little diorama on the table telling him a story about isn't-that-just-like-him Steve Rogers.

There was a pretty, expensive, gift box prominently placed at Bucky's usual setting, with a small bottle of lube that Steve couldn't possibly have thought was subtle tucked just behind it. 

The big idiot probably realized he was missing a bouquet of a dozen long-stemmed red roses and stormed out to correct his oversight, Bucky reflected with a soft smile. 

He eyed the thick, soft paper of the navy blue box and let himself believe for a moment that he wasn't going to open it. 

Surely Steve wanted to surprise him, he mused, it wouldn't be fair to open it without waiting for him. 

Surely Steve knows how I feel about surprises (viscerally negative) and wouldn't mind if I took a little peek to reassure myself, he mused further, and stepped forward to open the box. 

***

It is

It is

It is 200_ 200? 200@ 200! 2009

It is 2009 and the Asset has been taken out of storage and put to use

It is 2009 and there is still blood drying tacky in its hair 

And the clumping, bloody hair sways in front of its face and away from its face and in front of its face with the celebratory motion of its handler enjoying a job well done

It is 2009 and its handler is pulling out and bitching about how loose and useless it is, how it doesn't even tighten up in the freezer between jobs anymore

It is 2009 and the junior handler is saying hang on, I've got an idea, just let me grab something out of my locker

It is 2009 and the hard, blunt edge of the cylinder is too big too thick too dry jesus christ maybe it'll actually kill me this time please god

It is 2009 and blood is running down its balls while handlers and commandos hoot and jeer and the junior handler is saying just hang onto the _real_ tight hole, sweetheart. It's all that useless ass is good for anymore

It is 2009 and the junior handler is fucking into the massive hole the Asset is holding for him

It is 2009 and it hurts. 

***

It is 2012 and a hard piece of plastic holding a heavy piece of rubber clatters to the ground between its knees. 

"Give us a show while you put it in, sweetheart. It's not like we get much else out of you."

***

It is 2013 and there is a case stored with the weapon's weapons that is full of fittings and adapters. 

"Go get the clear one," the handler says, "I wanna see all the way inside you, sweetheart."

***

It is 2014 and the Asset had a cock in its mouth. 

Someone puts a thick cylinder in its metal hand and a bottle of lube in the weak one. 

"Go ahead, sweetheart. You know what to do."

***

The Asset feels cold. It's a strange contrast to his sun-warmed clothes. The Asset isn't supposed to go outside. It compromises mission security. 

The Asset frowns.

This handler won't mind. He's patient, gives a lot of leeway. 

But apparently his patience isn't infinite. 

The Asset feels sick to his stomach as he removes the enormous clear cylinder from the pretty blue box.

How long had he been a useless, fucked-out cunt for this kind, generous handler? How long had the handler patiently endured his loose, disgusting hole while waiting for the Asset to self-correct?

He wanted to sob, he wanted to slap himself. How dare he risk offending this handler? How could he be so stupid not to see that he could be sent back to the others when he failed? 

His fingers firmed around the huge toy. He wouldn't fail now. He knew what the handler wanted and he knew what he was good for. 

To start he took off his clothes and folded them neatly on the counter. 

He knew his asshole looked like a raw hamburger donut but the rest of him was as pretty as a girl. His nudity was one of the things he was good for. 

He opened the bottle of thick, odorless lubricant and squirted a heavy pool of it into his metal hand. 

It was hard to start with three fingers, harder than it used to be, but if he was going to do what he was good for for the kind, patient handler he'd have to start somewhere. The handler was larger than all the others had been and his real tight hole was larger too. Perhaps the Asset hadn't pushed him to the edge of his patience, perhaps it had simply taken a while to get a hole large enough for this handler. 

The Asset could fix this, if that was the case, could please the kind handler with what he could do and he wouldn't be sent back. He shuddered with relief at the thought and added his little finger in alongside the others. 

He kept at it and kept at it but no matter how hard he pushed his fist into himself his body wouldn't stay open for a hole as large as the one his handler needed. As soon as he pulled his fingers free his useless hole tried to be too useless even for this. 

Tears of frustration worked their way out of his eyes. If he couldn't even hold a hole for his handler to fuck maybe he didn't deserve a kind, patient, pretty handler. 

He sniffed and blinked at his tears and thought. 

And thought. 

And thought he might have found a solution. 

Sometimes when he was too hurt or fresh from cryo and his hole wouldn't open for something tight the handlers had helped him, with one or two spreading him wide while another pushed the hole inside of him so he could be put to proper use without making the handlers puke over how loose and ruined he was. 

He didn't have two handlers here to help him, but he could be clever when the situation called for it, that was allowed. 

So he kneeled up a bit and put the thick end of the tight hole between his feet and grabbed an ass cheek in each hand. He hunched his shoulders and inch-walked his fingers until the tips of the fingers on each hand were just inside his hole. 

Then he pulled. 

It hurt like lightning, like fire, like ice. He thought something might have torn - but he had the narrow end of the hole inside of him and that was the hard part. Gravity and lube could do the rest. 

***

In a lot of ways it was an honor to be the person people thought to call in a crisis. 

In a lot of other ways Steve thought that it would be nice if people didn't believe that he could do literally _everything_ because between hiding bodies and household plumbing he had a lot more experience with the bodies. 

But Wanda was a good kid and not used to calling out to repairmen for help so Steve had turned off the water to her (clearly demonically possessed) toilet, helped her Google for some good reviews, and waited with her until the clog (a clot of blue hair the size of a largish sewer rat) was worked loose.

It wasn't an awful experience, just not how he'd planned on spending his afternoon. 

All thoughts of how he _had_ planned to spend his afternoon fled as soon as he walked into his front door because any time Bucky's mouth was on his dick all Steve could really think was "yes!" With the occasional garbled prayer thrown in for balance. 

Bucky's mouth had always been a dream, hot and enthusiastic and talented, but since he'd been with HYDRA he sucked cock like a machine (for reasons Steve didn't want to examine with any fewer than three licensed therapists on standby).

He took Steve to the hilt immediately and began to swallow around him while his tongue cupped and undulated against the underside and his cool metal hand massaged Steve's balls.

The back of Steve's head hit the door and within two minutes his come hit Bucky's throat and he let himself be a panting, sweaty mess until his head had drifted back down from the clouds enough to make sense of things on earth. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'll do better, please," came a murmured litany from about hip height. 

"Buck?" he said, and tried to get a better look at his husband and their surroundings. 

Bucky clung tighter to his leg as Steve caught sight of a small pool of dried blood on the kitchen floor alongside a half empty bottle of lube. 

"Bucky? What's going on?"

"I know I'm useless, should have known you needed more, should have figured it out but I know now, and I can hold it, please, I'm sure if I practice or if you help me I can hold it and be tight for you without making the floor disgusting like me."

Steve tried to crouch but Bucky held his leg too tightly so he settled for petting his hair. 

"Honey, you're scaring me, what's going on?"

"Please don't send me back, don't take me back to the others, you're the only hander I want, I can be good for you, I'm sorry."

Steve felt his stomach drop into his toes and tried not to be sick at the thought of his husband greeting him at the door with a desperate blowjob to avoid being sent away to his rapists. 

"Honey, it's 2018. We're in our house in Brooklyn. You don't belong to HYDRA, and I'm not your handler."

It was the wrong thing to say. 

Bucky wailed and started babbling.

"No, please, look, I found your hole and I didn't think I could take it but I figured it out," he was turning around, putting himself on his hands and knees and lowering his chest to the ground and Jesus Christ -

"I can hold it, I can hold it for you, please, I can do it, I can't be tight, I know I'm too much of a useless slutty fuck for that but I can put my mouth to good use and hold a tight hole for you so you have something pretty to look at while you fuck it -"

Steve put a hand on Bucky's hip, said "Shhh," and carefully, determinedly, was not sick. 

It wasn't the first look at the toy that he'd expected. 

Bucky's asshole was stretched to the breaking point around the clear, hard plastic of the fleshlight. 

The transparent toy let Steve see exactly how much blood there was inside of Bucky's entrance, aside from the trails running down his thighs. 

He tried to remember what the website had said about the total length of the thing and realized it didn't matter. 

"JARVIS activate, confirmation code Bicentennial Man," maybe when this was over he'd thank Tony for having a sense of humor. Steve was sure he'd need that soon. 

"Captain Rogers, how may I assist you?"

"Please call for an ambulance, we need transport to the medical floor of Stark Tower and will need an emergency medical assessment and possibly surgery."

"Would you prefer air transport, Captain?"

Steve nodded. There was a reason they'd bought a converted warehouse instead of a brownstone. 

"ETA two minutes, Captain."

Steve got down on his knees and gently, delicately, kissed Bucky's forehead. His arms didn't shake when he scooped Bucky into them. 

"Please, please don't send me back, please," Bucky whispered. 

Steve hadn't realized how cold his skin was when he'd been distracted by the heat of his mouth.

"Who are you kidding, Buck? You couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

"Damn straight," Bucky said, with the slightest sliver of a smile, and it was enough to hope they'd get through this. 

**Author's Note:**

> Steve buys a fleshlight which causes Bucky to flash back to handlers forcing him to insert a fleshlight into his anus while claiming that his body was too used and ruined to be pleasurable for them to rape so they needed him to hold a tighter hole for them to use. And then Bucky does the same thing to placate Steve, who he sees as his handler due to his trauma flashback.


End file.
